


Motivated by Life

by ceria



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Mizumono, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: Abigail changes things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **For[@borderlinewill](http://borderlinewill.tumblr.com/).** You asked for happy!Will, said you didn't mind an AU, and wanted Abigail in their life. I hope you enjoy. Happy (belated) holidays! 
> 
> My personal headcanon is that Will didn't figure out Hannibal was in love with him, and he in love with Hannibal, until the beginning of season 3 while he recuperated in the hospital. Will figures it out sooner in this AU.
> 
> The title is based on Hannibal's comment, 'Most of what we do, most of what we believe, is motivated by death.'

He dreams of teaching Abigail to fish. They're a respite from the usual nightmares and while Will knows they are only dreams, he can't shake the feeling they're telling him something. That the peace he wakes with in the morning after seeing her is what he should focus on. He can't shake the idea that he's missing something important.

Hannibal had promised to not lie to him. These two thoughts together usually make Will crazy. It's as though he's clinging to the hope that Abigail isn't really dead but that cannot be possible. _Why_ would that be possible? Why would Hannibal keep such a secret?

He helps Hannibal burn all his patient notes while they discuss mind palaces. The end is near and Will… is still waffling about the choice he must make. There's an hourglass in his mind that is running out of sand. He won't be able to flip it over to watch the sand fall again unless he chooses Jack. 

Choosing Jack means being stuck in that hourglass forever; constantly flipped upside down, chasing the same grains of sand forever.

Choosing Hannibal will shatter that glass. Why does that option feel like freedom instead of death? 

~*~

Abigail has little to do besides watch Hannibal. He's the only person she's seen for months and she likes to think that she's learned to understand him.

Like the fact he's in love with Will Graham and is simultaneously thrilled by the idea and terrified of it. 

Will is the key to her future. Abigail understands that. Resents it. Certainly he freed her but he killed her _father_. For a brief time, months ago, she'd thought her father dying was a good thing. Except that now she's being… imprisoned isn't the correct word… kept by someone worse. 

She knows she's the fairy princess in this story. She's locked in Hannibal's home instead of a tower, waiting for Will to choose them – to accept he loves the dragon who guards her. That acceptance is her key to freedom and survival. She also knows that most fairy tales have gruesome, sad endings. Abigail doesn't want to die. She needs to prove herself loyal to Hannibal, and by extension Will, to live.

Four months ago she stumbled across Will's phone number and memorized it. Every time he comes for dinner, Hannibal sends her upstairs. She's tried so many things to give Will clues that she's there; she's left a scarf on the coat rack by the entrance, she's worn extra perfume in hopes the feminine scent lingers in the kitchen and dining room. She's left out some of the things Hannibal buys her; pens or barrettes or things that Hannibal would never own. She's trying to help Will choose but her methods have been too subtle.

 

Perching on the edge of the counter, Abigail nibbles on the vegetables and dip next to her. Hannibal paces, irrationally angry. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?" she asks.

"He _lied_. He's been lying this whole time."

"I don't understand," Abigail responds, trying to draw more information from Hannibal.

"Freddie Lounds is still alive. Will did not kill her."

"You're certain?"

"Yes," he meets her gaze and his expression is bleak fury. His expression is the end of her future.

"But he killed Randall Tier, you know that for a fact."

"Yes."

"And you were convinced he enjoyed it. You told me so."

"Yes."

"Freddie Lounds is more slippery than Randall. You know that Will hates her. Maybe this was a compromise."

"He lied," Hannibal repeats.

"As if you never lied to him," Abigail says. "Listen, you know how his minds works, that pretending to kill her would bring him just as much satisfaction as really killing her. Also, he's still working for Jack. Maybe this is how Will compromises." She has a good idea how Will's mind works now. Hannibal has waxed poetic about it for months. 

The bleak fury on Hannibal's face begins to bleed away. At least he's listening to her. "He killed – really killed – Randall for you. He pretended to kill Freddie for Jack. Didn't you tell me you believe he wants Jack dead?"

"Yes."

"Then that's what tips the scale."

"I am tired of this game," Hannibal meets her gaze. "Will is ours, not Jack's."

"So ask him to end the game and leave. Tonight even. Isn't he coming for dinner?"

Hannibal takes a deep breath and gives her a slight smile. "You think he might?"

"I think you have to give him a chance. What harm can come of it? We leave before killing an FBI agent. That's a good thing, isn't it? Safer for Will?" Safer for her as well but Abigail has learned that the only life Hannibal truly values – outside his own – is Will. 

"I will ask him tonight then," Hannibal says, glancing at the time. "He always arrives slightly early, you should go back upstairs."

"Okay," Abigail agrees.

She has one chance to tip the scale in her favor. Only one. As soon as she's upstairs, she dials the memorized phone number.

~*~

His cell phone rings and Will smiles when he sees it's Hannibal's home phone number. "I'm half way there," he says by way of greeting. "Don't tell me you need to cancel."

"Will," a young, feminine voice whispers. "He doesn't know I'm calling you," she hesitates and Will _knows_ she only has a minute.

He thinks of Miriam Lass and the phone calls Jack received from her. Of Hannibal's elaborate, prolonged plans. Will pulls the car to the side of the road, shaking too much to concentrate on driving.

"I'm listening."

"Please say yes," she whispers. " _Please_." She disconnects the phone. He wants to call back. He wants to turn around and go home. To steal her away from Hannibal's manipulations and try and keep her safe. Except Hannibal has always been better at planning.

Instead, Will takes a deep breath and rubs his hand across his face. He left home early, knowing he would arrive at Hannibal's door twenty minutes early if there wasn't too much traffic. 

He's still shaking; Will takes his cell phone and double-checks that he really just had a twenty-second phone call from Hannibal's home. He sets the timer app on his phone for ten minutes. He can sit by the side of the road for ten minutes and not arrive late.

"Abigail," he whispers, stunned. Then, just because he can, "Abigail is alive and at Hannibal's."

Things begin to click after that, the cogs of his brain reorganizing little facts. Things he'd noticed and hadn't put together because they made no sense. Will begins to restructure what he knows about Hannibal with the small details that he couldn't categorize before.

Then he thinks about their conversation concerning teacups. 

Jack believes Will belongs to him. Hannibal hopes Will might choose him. Will wants… he takes a deep, shaky breath. "I want to choose Hannibal," he whispers. His hands are shaking, he grips his steering wheel to keep them still. He hasn't admitted that to himself yet. He can't and still face Jack or Alana. He glances in the rearview mirror of his car and whispers it again, staring at himself. "I want to choose Hannibal."

The burden he's been carrying fades. 

Will wants Jack gone; he'd been waiting until the three of them had dinner together to use that to prove to Hannibal that they belonged together. Hannibal had been doing the same thing; keeping Abigail hidden as a gift for Will. But why? He can't be that attached to her. 

But Will was. Hannibal did this as a gift for Will… Will blinks and suddenly the answer is incredibly obvious. He thinks about his own dreams that he's denied; of Hannibal tied to a tree and the conversation they had about love.

Preposterous? Maybe. But Will knows it's true. "Hannibal's in love with me," he whispers, glancing in the rearview mirror again. The thought isn't as terrifying as expected. Probably because… "Oh God, I'm in love with him."

He's trembling again, sweating through his clothes. He turns the heat off in his car to cool down and runs his hand through his hair. His pulse settles and the truth of those words sink into his bones. He hadn't understood Hannibal's motivations and had been terrified to admit to himself his own motivations.

Love. 

The alarm goes off on his cell phone. It's time to drive again. Hannibal won't believe Will wants this if he admits he knows about Abigail. He'll have to work something else out.

~*~

This dinner isn't like the last few they've shared. Hannibal seems upset and Will isn't sure why. What has Hannibal learned since they last parted when they were burning his patient files? 

"Is it ideal that Jack die?" Hannibal asks out of nowhere.

"It's necessary, what has to happen to Jack has been preordained."

"We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite."

Will wants to make a crack about this being their last supper, knowing Hannibal might retort with a comment about serving lamb. Instead, he looks at Hannibal, holding his gaze, "Is that what you want?" he asks. He sets the silverware down and reaches out, hand outstretched on the table half way to Hannibal, palm flat against the surface. Casual, as if just stretching his arm.

Of course Hannibal notices. 

"Is that what you want?" Hannibal counters, glancing between his face and hand. This will have to be Will's choice. If he didn't know about Abigail, he would have said no. But her reaching out to him changes everything.

"Where will we go?" he asks. He turns his hand over and waits. Hannibal is the one who hesitates, glancing around the room as if expecting a trap. Will waits for him to decide. It's terrifying to get what you want. It leads to the unknown. 

"I have a place for us," Hannibal admits. He hasn't taken Will's hand yet.

"Do I need to sacrifice Jack to prove to you I mean this?" Will asks. Clarity and understanding that Hannibal loves him has given him strength. Will waits.

"As you sacrificed Ms Lounds?" 

So that is what Hannibal learned; that is why dinner has been awkward between them. "No," Will admits, takes a deep breath and continues, "because Freddie Lounds isn't dead."

"Pardon me?" Hannibal looks almost shocked by the admission, but not surprised.

"I faked her death. Don't misunderstand, I truly wish I killed her, but she is not dead. So no, I can't kill Jack the way I killed Freddie." He pauses to let Hannibal mull that over. "Do you need me to kill Jack to prove to you I mean this?" he repeats.

"Do you?" Hannibal retorts. "To let Jack set a trap that highlights you as part of a sting operation and not an accomplice?"

"No," Will admits. "You can leave your note for Alana, please ask her to re-home my dogs. We can feed them on the way out of town, and disappear tonight." The words are a relief. Giving up his dogs is painful but Will knows they can't take all of them. And offering to leave them behind will be proof he's decided to run away with Hannibal. The unknown is indeed terrifying but Will relaxes as Hannibal stares at him and accepts that Will means this.

Hannibal reaches out and takes Will's hand. "Alright," he agrees.

~*~

Their private beach is empty of all other people. Will rests beneath the large umbrella, hands folded beneath the back of his head where he's propped up to watch Abigail play at the edge of the water. Winston is barking madly at something, probably a fish, and she can't stop laughing. She's beautiful in the early morning light. He's missed her while she's been away at college but her being gone has helped him and Hannibal settle in surprising ways.

Hannibal is reading, his stomach soft beneath Will's hands and head. His left hand holds the book and his right rests on Will's chest except for when he turns a page. It took them _months_ to get to this point; neither had much of a reference point for a stable relationship. Trial and errors had got them through. More errors and trials in the beginning but things were better now. 

'I wouldn't trade this for anything,' Will thinks, wiggling one hand free to lace their fingers together. Hannibal doesn't comment but his hand tightens around Will's. 

Abigail hasn't stopped smiling all morning and Will is suspicious but not alarmed. Hannibal is watching her as if a stranger inhabits her body. Will has to hide his smirk all through lunch. "Tell us about university," Will suggests, trying to get a conversation going.

She tells them about her art class and all the other basic courses. She tells them about the students she's met and the friends she's made. "Some days I almost forget to put on a scarf," she admits and Will relaxes at those words. She rarely wears one at home. For a short time when they'd first bought this house, Hannibal had taken to packing extra scarves in the car when they left home in case she'd needed one. 

Hannibal and Will know her grades and her papers; they've helped with her homework via skype and email on multiple occasions. 

Abigail watches both of them for a long, silent moment. "Have you ever considered adopting?"

Hannibal blinks in surprise and Will almost chokes on his wine. "I presume you mean something other than dogs?" Hannibal asks.

"No," Will tells her. "We talked about it briefly after you left for college but decided against it. We're good like this." Hannibal nods in agreement; they are both too possessive of each other to give a child the emotional nourishment it would deserve.

"What began that thought?" Hannibal asks, setting down his silverware. His fingers are twitching; Will covers his hand and hangs on.

"I met a boy," Abigail begins, her expression nervous, "four months ago. He's amazing…"

"You should consider finishing university before pursuing any thought of children," Hannibal interrupts. Will squeezes his hand.

"Oh! Of course, I am. It just made me think…"

Will knows her next thought before she says it. "If you should procreate?" Considering her father, and herself, and the two men she called step-fathers now – Will had similar fears in the past.

Hannibal turns his gaze to Will. It's hard to have a conversation that doesn't invoke something from their past. Their twisted history. 

"I lied to him when we once talked about it," she admits. "I told him I couldn't have children."

"What did he say?"

"That adoption is always an option if we want to consider that after school. If we're still together."

Hannibal, Will can tell, is already considering the logistics of meeting boyfriends or planning weddings, of grandchildren. Will leaves him at the table and takes Abigail for a walk, whistling for the dogs to follow. "He's going to need a moment to process this," Will jokes. He holds out his arm and she takes it, the two of them wandering through the meadow of grapes, the dogs chasing each other.

"He asked about my parents. I don't know what to tell him," Abigail says. "I changed the subject but I can't continue to do that."

"What do you want to tell him?"

"That I have two adopted fathers. And one is painfully introverted who doesn't like meeting new people."

"How will you explain how your fathers met, then?"

"We're going to need a story," Abigail declares. 

"Can't tell a story without Hannibal," Will decides, "but maybe we should ask him later in the week."

"Thank you," Abigail says, leaning against Will's arm. 

"Always," Will answers, kissing the top of her head.

 

It's dark and Hannibal is undressing for bed. "How can he be good enough?"

"Pretty sure no one will ever be good enough for Abigail, but that's not our choice to make."

"Isn't it?" Hannibal sinks into their bed, pushing the blankets down for Will to climb over him. 

Will doesn't, he settles on Hannibal's chest, cradling his jaw, kissing his chin before moving up to kiss his lips. "Pretty sure it's not. We can suggest but we can't force her, Hannibal."

"And if he breaks her heart?" Hannibal argues.

"No," Will states. Hannibal wanting to kill anyone that could break their daughter's heart wasn't any better than what her biological father did. They'd agreed years ago to keep Abigail away from the murders they commit. "People fall in and out of love, they make bad choices, they fight and argue and make each other cry. Look how often we fought those first months we were together. Relationships are _hard_. Abigail must learn that lesson herself."

"I won't fall out of love with you," Hannibal declares. He wraps his arms around Will and rolls them, settling his hips between Will's legs.

"Nor I you, but we're not nineteen, are we?" Will wraps his legs around Hannibal, "Enough talking about her, love." And Will proceeds to take Hannibal apart the only way they break each other now.


End file.
